


Dancing Fool

by Elayna



Series: The Live Hard Series [13]
Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:38:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elayna/pseuds/Elayna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from chelletoo, John/Matt, Matt wants to go dancing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing Fool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChelleToo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChelleToo/gifts).



"Dancing." 

"Dancing?"

"Dancing. I just want to go…" 

Matt's words trailed off, and John sat down on the edge of the couch, resting a hand on Matt's chest, feeling it rise and fall in deep breaths, wondering if he'd fallen asleep. It was hard to tell with Matt's arm resting over his face. 

"Where it's loud and rhythmic and I don't have to think or worry and that's okay," Matt continued sleepily. His arm dropped from his face to rest at his side as he sent a stricken look toward the bassinet. 

"I'm a horrible parent, aren't I?"

"No," John said immediately, firmly. "You're a great parent." 

In another switch of mood, Matt's tone became irritated as he complained, "I don't understand why they can send a man to the moon and can't cure colic. Our society has misplaced priorities. Why was showing off to the Russians more important than taking care of our children?" 

"Come on. Sounds like daddy needs his sleep too." John took hold of Matt's arms, pulling him up. 

"Seriously, you cannot call me daddy. That's just wrong." Even as he protested, Matt let John encourage him off the couch and down the hallway to their bedroom. "Madeleine," he said, vainly trying to head back to the living room, as John used his superior strength and Matt's sleepy disorientation to strip all his clothes off except his t-shirt and boxers. 

"I'll take care of her," John promised, guiding him onto the bed and tucking him under the covers. 

Matt frowned, like he was still trying to protest, then yawned, rolled over, and fell to sleep. 

Dancing, John thought, remembering them waltzing at their wedding, both of them in black tuxes, surrounded by the admiring guests and a crazy number of flashes from cell phones and cameras. That had been a very special moment, even if dancing had never been one of his favorite activities. Maybe it was time for give it another try. 

~~~~

Or maybe magical moments couldn't be recreated, John decided the next Saturday, following Matt into the crowded club. Charlie had recommended the place, and John could easily understand how he appreciated the writhing, young bodies, but personally he could do without the loud, pounding beat. When he was younger, he'd loved rock concerts, but now he could only wonder how much damage was being inflicted on his ear drums by the hideous techno-crap. 

"This is great!" Matt yelled. "Let's dance!" 

"You go on," John yelled back. "I need a beer." Maybe a couple. 

Matt hesitated only a second, and then nodded, disappearing into the crowd on the dance floor, as John treaded his way to the bar. He managed to find an empty stool, and perched on it. Surreptitiously glancing around, it was easy to determine that damn it all, he was pretty much the oldest person in the place. 

"Jesus, John fucking McClane," the bartender said, somehow managing to talk loud enough to be heard without actually yelling. "What can I get for you?" 

The recognition startled John. It did happen, but mostly New Yorkers were too blasé to show their excitement at meeting someone who'd saved the country. "Beer. Draft." 

The bartender looked tough enough to double as a bouncer, and seemed happy to follow limited instructions, pouring John a glass of draft beer without making him choose. "On the house," he said, placing the glass in front of him. "Want some potato skins?" 

"Yeah. Thanks." 

The evening wasn't so bad, drinking good beer, eating greasy snacks, chatting idly with the bartender, whose elderly parents survived on Social Security and credited John for their financial livelihood in not letting Thomas Gabriel steal the country blind. And of course, watching for glimpses of Matt as he gyrated wildly, body loose-limbed, hands often over his head in some sort of crazy victory dance, like all his troubles were being released. 

"Hey, come on." Matt suddenly appeared at his side, capturing his hand, and tugging him toward the dance floor. His skin gleamed with sweat, his bangs slightly damp and sticking to his forehead. "They're playing your song." 

The opening drum beats of Creedence's Fortunate Son were unmistakable, as familiar to John as the New York subway routes. "I can't believe they even had this song." 

"They didn't. It's called a download." Matt tugged and John went, with an apologetic look at Doug. 

John didn't know if people were giving them space, or abandoning the dance floor because they couldn't relate to the classic rock, but the two them were able to move without banging into others. Not that either of them were experts at dancing, just making random twisting motions and waving their hands some, but it was fun. At least, for the duration of the song, and then the techno nonsense started again. Too bad they couldn't download all of Creedence's discography, but he was touched that Matt had gotten them to play one. 

Matt draped his arms over John's shoulders, and John bent slightly, placing his arms around Matt's waist, the two of them swaying on the dance floor, not at all in rhythm to the music. "Thank you for this." 

"I'm a sensitive guy," John deadpanned, "attuned to my partner's needs." 

"You are," Matt insisted, grinning but serious. 

"You ready to go home now?" 

Matt threw back his head, laughing. "I won. Charlie bet you'd say that in the first half hour. Lucy thought you'd last an hour." 

Looking over Matt's shoulder, John glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "I've lasted almost two." Partially because of the free booze and food, but mostly because he enjoyed watching Matt enjoy himself, even if he didn't want to participate. 

"That was my bet." 

John felt a bit grouchy that his family and friend had been betting on his patience, but pleased that Matt knew him best. "I hope you won big." 

"I bet free technical support and they bet free babysitting! Two more nights out," Matt threw back, leading the way off the dance floor, their fingers laced together. 

"Hey, next time's a baseball game!" John yelled, giving a wave to Doug with his free hand as he followed Matt out of the club and into the blissfully peaceful night. He had to stop and pull Matt to him, giving him a dirty, lingering kiss, letting him know how much watching Matt had affected him. 

Matt's eyes were glazed when he pulled away. "Home," he said, "definitely home now. And please let Maddie be sleeping." 

"Yeah," John agreed. "Home." 

~ the end ~


End file.
